Bad Weather
by Zakiyah and DNash
Summary: COMPLETE! A sudden storm catches Veronica and Ned unawares. Wackiness ensues for all the treehouse dwellers. PG to PG-13 - CHAPTERS ARE INDIVIDUALLY RATED.
1. Default Chapter

**Bad Weather**  
A Round Robin Collaboration/Battle between DNash and Zakiyah

**Standard Disclaimer:** 'Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's _The Lost World_' is the exclusive property of Coote/Hayes, New Line Television, and anyone else who has a stake in it. No copyright infringement is intended.  
**Special Thanks:** FiTanna gets the uber-crown for her full beta of this tale. Thanks also to Jaclyn, SunKrux, Steph, and others for their input.  
**Time:** Somewhere in the midst of Season 2.  
**Rating:** PG

**Round 1 - DNash**

"Another beautiful day on the Plateau," remarked Marguerite to the empty room, the dryness of her tone providing stark contrast to the wet weather. She glared out at the sheeting rain then released her hold on the woven blind, letting it flap soddenly back into place.

She looked around the treehouse for something to occupy her time. A futile endeavor, and she knew it, but she looked anyway. She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against a supporting frame of the treehouse wall.

She was still standing there when Roxton and Challenger returned. Both men were soaked to the skin, clothing plastered to their well-toned bodies. Marguerite simply looked at them as they stepped out of the lift.

"What? No greeting for the prodigals returned?" quipped Roxton, his usual teasing smirk turning up the corner of his lips. He removed his dripping hat, allowing the water on the brim to pour into a small puddle on the floor.

"I presume you intend to clean that up yourself," the heiress snapped in reply.

Challenger bit back a grin. More and more he noticed Marguerite and Roxton acting like what he would call an old married couple. They'd always sniped, but had it seemed different for several weeks now. He wondered just what had brought about the change—then chided himself because whatever it was, it was likely none of his business. "I'll get us towelsand a mop."

"No," said Marguerite surprising them both. "Don't move. You'll just make a mess. Stay put, and _I'll_ get the towels and mop." _Besides,_ she thought, _it'll give me something to do for thirty seconds._

The two men exchanged a puzzled but accepting glance. Roxton shrugged. "Whatever you say."

The dark-haired woman didn't even look at them as she stomped off to collect the items in question.

"Any word on Veronica and Malone?" called Challenger after her. He removed his own hat and hung it, drooping, on a nearby peg. He and Roxton both began removing their waterlogged, heavy boots.

"Do you see them anywhere?" sniped Marguerite, handing each man a large towel. She leaned the mop against the wall. She'd brought it; she'd never offered to use it.

"I don't know," Roxton said. "They could be here, hiding from you." He hid his smirk behind his towel and took plenty of time scrubbing it over his wet hair.

"Ha, ha. I'm going to my room." She stormed out nearly as violently as the weather outside.

Challenger looked over at Roxton who was just peeking out from under the towel. "That wasn't nice, John," he chided.

"I know." He looked for a brief second as if he were about to go apologize. Then the moment passed. "Wonder where the others are?" he mused instead. "They should have headed back the minute this storm hit." He peeled off his wet shirt, letting it fall with a splat to the floor. "I have to mop up anyway," he said with a shrug.

"It's not safe for them out there." Daring more of Marguerite's wrath should she catch him, Challenger moved to the window and peered out. A line of damp footprints showed his path. He shifted the storm shade aside and peered out into the driving rain. He couldn't even see as far as the ground. "They weren't supposed to be going that far. They should be back by now."

*****

"Ned?" shouted Veronica into the increasing storm. She took a cautious step, slipping in the sticky mud. The river was rising fast, and she'd lost sight of Malone. "_Ned?!_"

_Continued in Round 2_


	2. Bad Weather 2

**Bad Weather**  
A Round Robin Collaboration/Battle between DNash and Zakiyah

**Standard Disclaimer and Special Thanks:** Please see Round 1.  
**Time:** Somewhere in the midst of Season 2.  
**Rating:** PG

**Round 2 - Zakiyah**

Another step, and Veronica lost her footing entirely. She fell forward, unable to stop herself from sprawling full-length in the gooey morass that had once been solid ground. Groaning, she pushed herself up, shivering as cold mud oozed inside her leather top and squelched beneath her boots. "Ned!" she shouted again. "Why can't you ever stay close when I tell you to?" she muttered to herself.

After what seemed an endless time of fruitless shouting and searching, Veronica had to admit to herself that Malone was nowhere nearby. She backtracked to the last place they'd stopped, but by the time she got there, the storm had erased any trace of their original trail. Shivering violently and knowing the storm was only going to get worse, Veronica knew she had no choice but to keep on going towards the treehouse and hope Malone had made it there on his own.

_If you're there Ned, I'm going to wring your neck for scaring me like this,_ she thought grimly to herself as she hurried through the dripping jungle, keeping a sharp lookout for any sign of the missing reporter. _Please be there!_

*****

Malone opened his eyes briefly, struggling to return to consciousness. It wasn't something the reporter was very good at, and he only caught a glimpse of people in brightly colored clothes and the flicker of firelight before his vision blurred too much to make anything out. _That almost looks like_ The thought was lost as unconsciousness claimed him once again.

*****

Roxton was in his room changing out of his wet clothes when he heard the rumble of the elevator. He sighed in relief, an unconscious tension draining away from his tired muscles. _They're back. They're safe._ Scrubbing his hair and bare skin vigorously with the towel Marguerite had given him, he didn't hear the heiress stomp past his room on the way to the common area.

"About time. I bet you're a dripping mess, too, just like the others," Marguerite snapped as she appeared in the main room, two more towels already in hand. She stopped short as she saw Veronica, alone, covered with mud, shivering in the elevator. Overcoming her surprise, she quickly hurried forward, all her irritation replaced by concern. "Veronica! What happened? Where's Malone?" She quickly flung one of the towels around her shaking friend.

"Malone? H-he's not h-here?" Veronica stuttered, her teeth chattering with cold.

"No, I thought he was with you," Marguerite replied, helping the other woman into the common room. Veronica was clearly exhausted. She guided her friend down onto one of the makeshift sofas, not caring about the mud and the mess she'd have to clean up later.

"W-we got separated in the st-storm," Veronica said miserably. "I c-couldn't f-find himhoped h-he'd made it h-here"

"No, he's not here, but I'm sure he's holed up someplace safe," Marguerite lied convincingly, trying to comfort Veronica. Privately, the heiress had a healthy respect for Malone's ability to get himself in trouble, and she was certain that he hadn't lost his knack. 

Veronica tried to struggle to her feet. "I h-have to keep looking. It's m-my fault."

Marguerite snorted and kept Veronica seated with the pressure from one hand. "Hardly. You and Roxton always take entirely too much on your shoulders. Malone got himself lost, and you certainly didn't conjure the weather."

"B-but"

"No one could find anyone in this weather anyway," Marguerite pointed out. Seeing the look on Veronica's face, she sighed in exasperation. "All right. You stay here and get warm before you catch your death. I'll go down to the perimeter and have a look around, just in case Malone forgot how to open the gate or something."

"You sh-shouldn't go al-alone," Veronica protested. 

Marguerite gave her a sardonic look as she grabbed her hat and rifle from the pegs by the elevator. "Don't worry, _I_ have more sense than to go wandering off into the storm."

"R-Roxton – "

At the sound of the hunter's name, the heiress's lips tightened briefly and her eyes flashed with repressed temper. She gave Veronica a determined smile. "I hardly need his help for this. I'm sure he'll want to go charging off as soon as you tell him about it, but he's soaked to the skin just like you. Try to be sensible when you tell him. Now get dry." With a last cynical tilt of her eyebrows, Marguerite stepped into the elevator and sent it downwards. 

"Marguerite!" Veronica called after her, but it was too late. The heiress disappeared from view.

*****

_Continued in Round 3_


	3. Bad Weather 3

**Bad Weather**   
A Round Robin Collaboration/Battle between DNash and Zakiyah

**Standard Disclaimer and Special Thanks:** Please see Round 1.  
**Time:** Somewhere in the midst of Season 2.  
**Rating:** PG

**Round 3 - DNash**

There was pounding. Malone couldn't determine if it was in his head or coming from somewhere outside himself. His senses were returning bit by bit. He could tell he was lying on his side. He could tell his hands were tied behind him. He could tell his cheek was pressing into the ground. The good news was the ground was dry.

He tried to piece together what had happened to bring him here. He and Veronica had seen the storm coming and had turned for home, hoping to outrun the lowering clouds. They'd been at least two miles from the treehouse when the deluge hit. In seconds, they were soaked. In minutes, their vision was so obscured he'd come inches from walking into a tree.

Veronica had said something—shouted something; he didn't know what. It was nearly impossible to hear her over the noise the rain was making. It had been like standing under a waterfall, he remembered thinking. Then she'd disappeared. 

He'd called and called, but there was no response. He stepped away from the tree andnothing.

Slowly, painfully, he opened his eyes. It did him little good. Wherever he was it was dark. Very dark.

_Great. Another cave._

*****

At Veronica's shout, Roxton's first instinct was to bound out of his room and see what the hell was going on. He fought the instinct and first pulled on a pair of pants. He draped his damp towel over his neck to catch any drips from his still damp hair and hurried out into the main living area.

"What's wrong?" he asked before he'd really caught sight of the blonde woman.

"M-Malone's m-missing," she replied through chattering teeth. "Marguerite went to scout the p-perimeter."

"By herself? In this rain?" demanded Roxton. Immediately, he glanced out into the jungle, but the storm shades blocked his view. "Damn fool woman," he muttered. He grabbed his wet boots and began to pull them back on. He fought his way into one, but it was a struggle as the soaked leather stuck to his pant leg, bunching it uncomfortably. Ignoring the discomfort, he forced his foot into the other boot.

_So much for being sensible,_ thought Veronica. She wrapped the towel tighter around herself, her shivering starting to decrease in the relative warmth of the treehouse. "She said she'd be right back. You don't have to go back out there. You're not even dry from your last time." Finally she managed to catch the hunter's full attention.

It was the first time Roxton actually registered the young woman's state. "Nor are you." He knelt next to her. He pulled the towel from his neck and placed it over the young woman's straggling curls, gently wringing some of the water from them into the cloth. "You need to get warm and dry. Challenger?" he called out.

It was only a moment before the inventor was with them. Unlike Roxton, he'd managed to get completely dressed first. He'd even managed to run a comb through his wet hair. "What is it?"

"Malone's missing. Marguerite's looking for him. I'm going after them both," the hunter stated succinctly.

"Ah. Another routine day on the Plateau." It was said dryly and without mirth.

Despite the gravity of the situation, Veronica laughed. It was a brief outburst, absurd and only a few steps short of hysterical. She cleared her throat and was quickly serious once again. As clearly and calmly as she could she said, "Ned and I got separated by the storm. I couldn't find any trace of him. Why can't he listen to me and do what I tell him?" The looks from the men made her eyes widen. "Oops. That last bit was out loud, wasn't it?"

"It's all right," Challenger assured her with a gently teasing smile. "We'll ascribe it to distress and exhaustion. And we won't tell a soul."

While the inventor was seeing to Veronica, Roxton finished adjusting his boots. Not bothering to put on a fresh shirt—it would only have gotten wet and dirty and added to the week's laundry—he grabbed his hat and was reaching for his gun belt when they heard the squeal and groan of the lift. The three paused in hopeful anticipation.

Marguerite stepped from the lift just as drenched as the others had been. She set her rifle aside and stood dripping on the floor. "Well? Isn't anyone going to offer _me_ a towel?"

"You didn't find him?" Veronica tried to sound strong and matter-of-fact, but inside she was shaking—and not with cold.

"I couldn't see two feet in front of me," the heiress admitted angrily. She wasn't angry with the blonde; she was angry with herself. _That's what I get for trying to be noble._ "Thank you, Challenger," she added as the ginger-haired man handed her yet another towel, which she used to wring out her long dark curls. "We're going to have to do laundry earlier than scheduled, I think. We'll be out of towels before sundown at this rate."

"We won't even know when sundown is. It's so dark from the storm already," Veronica said flatly.

Challenger gave her a concerned look. It was rare for her to sound so gloomy, and she was looking more worn out by the second. "Why don't you go to your room and get cleaned up, my dear?" he suggested gently. He offered a hand, which she gratefully took, and helped her to her feet.

"No."

"Excuse me?" 

All three of them were taken by surprise.

"I'm already soaked through," the blonde pointed out. "I might as well go back out there to look for Malone. I can't get any wetter."

"Absolutely not," said Marguerite with authority. "If you go out there, someone will have to go with you. I'm the logical choice at the moment," she added with a wry look at her sodden state, "and I'm not going anywhere. You said yourself we won't be able to tell when night's coming on, and I've already said you can't see your hand in front of your face in that downpour. It's not safe."

Veronica wanted to argue. It was pointless, and she knew Marguerite was right, but she didn't want to accept that she was helpless.

Seeing the crestfallen look the younger woman tried unsuccessfully to hide, Marguerite's expression softened. "We'll find him. As soon as it's light and the rain lets up. Don't worry. Malone has proved himself to be pretty indestructible. He's come through all sorts of trouble." _Of course, if he wasn't such an idiot he wouldn't have gotten into all sorts of trouble in the first place,_ she added to herself, for once not sharing her biting sentiments with the room in general.

"Why don't you ladies get cleaned up?" suggested Roxton. "There's nothing more to be done tonight."

*****

Sitting up wasn't an option, Malone decided. He probably could have managed it by leaning against the cave wall and using his feet to push himself up, but he chose not to. Just looking around from where he lay was making his head throb, which in turn caused his stomach to roil unpleasantly. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, hoping the sensations would pass.

The nausea subsided; the pounding in his skull did not. That was when he realized the pounding was coming from within and without.

_Continued in Round 4_


	4. Bad Weather 4

**Bad Weather**  
A Round Robin Collaboration/Battle between DNash and Zakiyah

**Standard Disclaimer and Special Thanks:** Please see Round 1.  
**Time:** Somewhere in the midst of Season 2.  
**Rating:** PG  
**Spoilers:** _Amazons_

**Round 4 – Zakiyah**

_Drums?_ Malone wondered, finally recognizing the sound. The beat set his stomach churning again. He opened his eyes and raised his head a few inches, surprise momentarily overcoming his nausea. _That beat sounds familiar. I wonder why?_

"Hsst! Hey you! Friend of Veronica! Are you awake?" The voice came from somewhere out of the darkness. 

Malone debated whether to ignore it, but curiosity won out over his continuing discomfort. He inched himself up and tried to look around. It didn't seem as dark as before. _My eyes must have adjusted_, Malone thought to himself as he made out iron bars about six feet away, and beyond that, a few moving men in familiar-looking clothing. _Bars? Since when do caves have bars?_ It was then he discovered he was in a cell, not just a cave.

"Wake up, friend!" the voice came again, louder, then it dropped, obviously addressing itself to someone else. "He must still be unconscious. What was his name again?" 

"Malone," Ned said at last, finally regaining enough wits to respond. "My name's Malone." He peered through the darkness again, and recognition struck. "I know you. You're Zanga." He tried to remember a name, but his mind remained stubbornly blank.

"Kai," the taller of the two Zanga warriors replied, "and this is Ardo. I don't think you've met him before."

"No," Malone agreed. He looked around a little more. "What happened? Where are we?"

Kai shrugged, his lithe frame making the movement both graceful and expressive of his disgust. "We were hunting when we were caught out by the storm. We were heading for the shelter of nearby caves when we found you unconscious under a tree. We brought you with us and made camp in one of the caves – but we were attacked. We were brought here through tunnels."

Malone stared at him, confused. "Attacked by whom? Brought where?"

The noise of the drums suddenly increased tenfold, accompanied by a loud metallic squeal. Kai and Ardo immediately backed against the far wall of their cell. "Shh – here they come! Lie still and they might not take you!"

_Huh?_ Malone wondered, but obediently lay his head back down on the ground and closed his eyes. The darkness behind his eyelids gave way to a flickering brightness. _Whoever they are, they brought torches_. He cracked an eyelid open a trifle as he heard what sounded like cell doors opening. He didn't know whether one of them was his.

"Aw, is he still not awake?" a vaguely familiar female voice cried in disappointment as other voices rang out in laughter. 

Malone's eyes flew open in surprise before he could stop himself. Out of the corner of his eye he saw several leather-clad women dragging Kai and Ardo from their cell, but most of his attention was riveted on the pert blonde peering into his cell, a delightful pout on her lips. He recognized her immediately, and the memories her face brought to his mind made him blush furiously. Seeing his eyes open, she shrieked in delight.

"Oh, you are awake! Naughty boy!" the Amazon giggled as she came into his cell and knelt beside him. She cradled his face between her hands, causing Malone to wince as his head moved. Her expression turned serious for a moment. "Oh, not so naughty after all." One hand wove its way delicately through his hair, searching until it found the sizeable lump on the side of his head. "Just hurt, but it shouldn't take too long to heal." She smiled tenderly at him. "That's good, because I don't want to have to wait too long. You were so much fun last time, it will be nice to spend time with you again. Even without my sister." Her eyes glistened for a moment before she leaned in and kissed him lightly on the lips. "In the meantime, I think you'll rest more comfortably with me."

She tried to pull him to his feet, but the sudden movement proved too much for Malone. He barely reached his feet before he fainted.

*****

_Continued in Round 5_


	5. Bad Weather 5

**Bad Weather**  
A Round Robin Collaboration/Battle between DNash and Zakiyah

**Standard Disclaimer and Special Thanks:** Please see Round 1.  
**Time:** Somewhere in the midst of Season 2.  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Spoilers:** _Amazons_

**Round 5 - DNash**

"Oof!" Not expecting the heavy pack to be tossed to her at that moment, Marguerite was caught unprepared. "Thanks so much."

Roxton just grinned. Then his face turned serious once more. "We need to get moving if we want to have any hope of finding Malone today." The hunter had been up late the previous night cleaning their weapons and organizing for the rescue expedition.

The rain had eased up and finally stopped shortly after midnight. Only then had Roxton grabbed a few hours of sleep, but he was feeling refreshed and ready nonetheless. The hunt was what he lived for—he only wished they weren't hunting for a missing friend.

He called out to the rest of their party. "Challenger? Veronica? Ready to go?" 

Veronica appeared in the common room before he'd finished speaking. "Yes," she said. In contrast to Roxton, the young woman looked tired. She'd gone to bed as soon as she'd gotten warm and dry, but she didn't appear to have gotten much sleep. Dark circles ringed her eyes, and a small line of worry creased her forehead giving her what looked like a constant scowl.

Roxton noticed the expression, and it disturbed him. "Don't worry, Veronica. We'll find him."

"Of course we will," she agreed with a sharp nod. Then she called out, "Challenger?"

"No need to shout," the inventor said from nearby. He looked around the group. "Ready are we?"

It was quick work for him to strap on his gun belt, and each of them did a final check of his or her weapons. Then each shouldered a pack of supplies, and they stepped into the elevator.

*****

"Oof!" grunted Phoebe as Malone collapsed against her. "You're heavier than you look," she muttered. Awkwardly but carefully, she lowered him once more to the floor of the cell. The Amazon rose and popped her head out the open cell door and looked around. "Kala," she called out to the guard at the foot of the stair. The brawny woman approached. "I need your help."

*****

At last she had Malone where she wanted him. Unfortunately, he was still unconscious. _That doesn't mean I can't make him comfortable while I wait for Selena,_ she thought. A runner had been sent to find the tribe's queen and healer, but an injured prisoner wasn't the highest priority on the monarch's list.

Phoebe moved to the foot of the big bed and removed the reporter's boots. That done, she was sure he'd be more comfortable without that bulky vest. It would mean untying his hands, but she could easily retie them when she was finished. She reached for the bonds and paused. "You're not faking it again, are you?" she asked him warily.

Malone's only response was his slow, steady breathing.

"Hmm." Satisfied, Phoebe untied his hands and began removing his vest. It was an awkward business that required rolling him from one side to the other. The reporter groaned, his face pinched with pain, but he didn't wake.

Finally, the vest was off. The Amazon set it aside and was about to retie Malone when a thought occurred to her. _Since I'm here, I might as well take off that shirt of his, too. It will help Selena to have it out of the way when she treats his wounds._ She conveniently ignored the fact that the only wound she'd seen was on his head.

Unbuttoning the shirt, she was surprised and a bit annoyed to find another beneath it. This one would be more difficult to remove as it would have to be pulled over the reporter's head. Phoebe wondered why the man wore so many clothes. It couldn't be for protection; the flimsy cloth wouldn't stand up to even the dullest arrow. She shook her head and pulled out her knife, using it to slice through this final layer of fabric. With both shirts laid open, it was a matter of moments to remove them. Malone moaned once or twice during the maneuver, but his eyes remained stubbornly shut.

The frustrated Amazon stared at him for a minute, enjoying the smooth skin and defined muscles of his chest and belly. _Blast,_ she thought in annoyance. She wanted Malone healed so she could have fun with him as she and her sister Thea had once had. _Almost had,_ she reminded herself. They'd been rudely interrupted in their pleasure by that irritating blonde, Veronica. Now Thea was dead and they could never have the kind of fun they might have with this man. That being the case, Phoebe was determined to have enough fun for both herself and her lost sister, in honor of her memory.

Phoebe's eyes rested on Malone's belt and the strange pockets that adorned it. She knew they were meant to hold weapons; she'd been the one who'd taken them from him when the scouting party had captured him and his Zanga companions.

"That can't be comfortable," she decided. On her knees beside the unconscious reporter, she reached out and undid the buckle. She then unfastened the buttons of his pants reasoning once again that it would aid in Selena's treatment. As gently as she could, she removed both belt and pants, leaving him in only his drawers and socks. 

Phoebe crawled up the bed to lie next to him. She placed a hand against his cheek. The stubble she found there intrigued her. She giggled. The reporter responded to the sound even in unconsciousness and rolled a little toward her. Phoebe giggled again and ran her hand along his side. Still, Malone didn't wake.

She continued her trek downward and slipped her hand under the waistband of his drawers, grasping one firm buttock and squeezing it gently. She was rewarded with another moan, this time one that sounded more of pleasure than of pain. The Amazon continued the massage, felt the man's involuntary response press against her leg. She leaned into him.

"Phoebe!"

_Continued in Round 6_


	6. Bad Weather 6

**Bad Weather**  
A Round Robin Collaboration/Battle between DNash and Zakiyah

**Standard Disclaimer and Special Thanks:** Please see Round 1.  
**Time:** Somewhere in the midst of Season 2.  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Spoilers:** _Amazons_

****

Round 6 - Zakiyah

Phoebe jumped back, almost falling off the bed as she whipped around to look at the intruder. "Hestia!" she stammered in surprise.

Selena's red-haired apprentice stood in the doorway, her eyebrows furrowed in a scowl. "I thought you needed a healer," she said sarcastically. 

"I do – for him," Phoebe replied, gesturing to the unconscious man in her bed.

"Wear him out already?" If anything, Hestia's frown deepened.

"No, he was unconscious when we captured him, and he collapsed again in the cell and hasn't woken up. He's got a nasty bump on his head," Phoebe replied in all seriousness.

Upon hearing that, Hestia hurried forward. "Let me take a look."

"Where's Selena?" Phoebe wanted to know as she made room for Hestia on the bed.

"Tending Helena. She and Psyche were sparring, and, well, you know Psyche" Hestia mumbled distractedly as she pried Malone's eyelids open to look at his pupils.

"Oh no. Another accident?" Phoebe winced.

"She tripped just as Helena was making a lunge with her spear. Helena practically turned herself into a knot trying to avoid skewering her. One of her knees is the size of a T-Rex egg." Hestia continued her examination as she spoke, testing Malone's pulse and examining the lump on his head. Finally she sat back with a sigh. "He's had a nasty blow to the head, Phoebe. He's not going to be good for much for a while. He needs to be kept warm and quiet, and once he wakes up, he mustn't be allowed to go back to sleep for at least twelve hours. I'll call Kala and have her help you take him back to the cells."

"No!" Phoebe protested.

"No?" Hestia inquired, raising an eyebrow.

"No. I'll take care of him here." Phoebe got off of the bed and fetched a few blankets, spreading them over the unconscious man.

"But Phoebe, he isn't good for anything right now!"

Phoebe gave Hestia a determined look. "It will be easier to keep him warm here instead of in the cells. And when he wakes up, I'll make sure he doesn't movemuch."

Hestia recognized the stubborn determination on Phoebe's face and sighed. Phoebe was a formidable fighter, but she wasn't the smartest Amazon in the tribe by a long shot. Still, Hestia knew better than to argue with her in this mood. "Fine, Phoebe. Just call me when he wakes – and don't forget to tie him. You know the rules. Selena would be very displeased if any man escaped from here and disclosed our new location to the outside world."

The blonde Amazon gave Hestia a grateful smile, knowing the young healer wasn't going to tell. "Thank you, sister."

Hestia nodded tiredly. "Just don't forget to call me – when he wakes up, or if his condition changes in any way."

Phoebe turned back to her prize after seeing the red-headed healer from the room. Remembering Hestia's warning, she carefully re-tied the reporter to her bed, trying to make sure the man would be as comfortable as possible despite the restraints. Once that was done, she stripped out of her own clothes and snuggled under the blankets next to him, draping her body partially over his. "I'll keep you warm," she promised him, tracing one finger along the line of his collarbone. "And when you wake up, you won't go back to sleep for a while. I promise you that." Sighing, she laid her head on his chest and listened to the steady drumbeat of his heart. 

*****

"This is where I last saw him," Veronica announced, looking around the small clearing. The midmorning sun shone brightly, but could not warm the cold center of fear inside of her. "We became separated somewhere between here and the river."

"No sign of a trail," Roxton muttered after scouring the clearing for a few minutes, looking for any trace of the missing reporter.

"Hardly surprising, given last night's storm," Marguerite said sarcastically. "Veronica already told you there were no traces of him."

Roxton bristled. "Never hurts to be sure."

Marguerite snorted. "Fine. While you're busy being sure, Veronica and I will scout ahead to the river and see if we can find anything. Coming, Veronica?"

"Let's go," the blonde replied, anxious to be doing something – anything! – to find Ned, and more than willing to help separate Marguerite and Roxton. The two had been sniping at each other all morning. _Maybe with some time apart those two will get whatever it is out of their systems – and in the meantime Marguerite and I can cover a lot of ground._ In spite of the irritation of being an unwilling bystander to the fireworks between the two, she hadn't forgotten Marguerite's uncharacteristically kind attempt to find Ned the night before – or at least to reassure Veronica by checking the perimeter. Searching with Marguerite as her partner was the least she could do in return.

"Wait a minute," Roxton protested. He scowled at Marguerite. The effort was wasted as she refused to look at him.

"We will cover more ground if we split up," Challenger admitted, shooting Veronica a quick glance and nodding slightly. Aside from the logic of the search, he too could see the advantages of giving the heiress and the hunter some time apart.

"We'll head east, along the path I took," Veronica continued. "Unless you find some sign, head southeast. There's a series of gullies there; it's an easy place to get lost in the dark. We'll meet back here in two hours." Nodding to Marguerite, Veronica started eastwards.

"Good luck," Challenger called after them.

"If you run into trouble or find Malone, fire twice," Roxton shouted after them.

"Of course. I'll just refrain from firing otherwise," Marguerite's sarcastic words floated back to them as the two women disappeared into the jungle.

"Damn it," Roxton swore under his breath. He knew why he and the lovely heiress had been trading insults all morning. They were both worried about Malone, and taking it out on each other. _Well, that and she still hasn't forgiven me for what I said yesterday. Not that I ever apologized._ He'd tried apologizing on the trail, only to be met with a mixture of rudeness and scorn that had him losing his temper with her all over again. _Not that I should have to apologize – can't the woman take a joke?_

Challenger looked at him with some amusement. "Looks like it's just you and me, old man," he said dryly. "And if you don't find a way to mend your fences with Marguerite, it might be the two of us for quite a while."

Roxton gave the scientist a sour look before continuing his search of the clearing.

*****

_Continued in Round 7_


	7. Bad Weather 7

**Bad Weather**  
A Round Robin Collaboration/Battle between DNash and Zakiyah

**Standard Disclaimer and Special Thanks:** Please see Round 1.  
**Time:** Somewhere in the midst of Season 2.  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Spoilers:** _Amazons_

**Round 7 – DNash (w/ assitance from Zakiyah)**

Veronica and Marguerite had been searching for nearly an hour with no luck.

"This is ridiculous. We're never going to find anything here," said Marguerite in frustration. "The rain caused the river to swell so high any trail along its banks is long gone."

"Along with anyone who made the trail," responded Veronica angrily. "Is that what you mean?" 

The dark-haired woman looked at her, genuinely surprised. Certainly the thought had occurred to her, but she'd never have expected it to occur to the more optimistic blonde. "You said it, not me," she said at last. 

"You're right we won't find anything here. I don't know what I was thinking. Malone's not foolish enough to travel next to a flooding river in the middle of a rain storm in the dark."

"Are you trying to convince me or you? Because frankly, I'm not convinced."

Veronica looked at her angrily. "I'm going to work inland from here and back toward the rendezvous point. Maybe he found shelter." She turned her back on the heiress and stalked into the jungle.

"Damn," muttered Marguerite and followed.

*****

"Anything?" asked Roxton.

"Nothing," Challenger replied. They'd had no luck at the clearing, so they'd headed southeast to search the gullies as Veronica recommended. They'd been at it for over an hour and still no sign of Malone. "We should begin working our way back to the women."

"You're right." The hunter didn't like it, and it showed on his face. "We'll go over to that next ridge" He pointed to the one he meant. "then begin heading back to the clearing. That way we won't be covering the same ground twice. Besides, there might be caves over that way where Malone could have taken shelter for the night." Traditionally, caves hadn't been the places of refuge they might have hoped for, but any port in a storm was better than none.

The men headed toward the ridge.

*****

"Here!" exclaimed Veronica. She was crouched near a cave opening, examining something.

"What is it?" Marguerite moved quickly to join her.

"Footprint."

"Don't you mean footprints, plural?"

"No. Look." She pointed just inside the mouth of the cave. The ground there was only damp, not the muddy mess to be found out in the open. A single footprint was clearly visible.

"That doesn't look like it was made by Malone. Look at it. The tread's not right, and the size is far too large."

"It's a Zanga sandal."

Marguerite failed to see the significance. "So? So what if the Zanga used this cave? We're looking for _Malone_, remember?"

Veronica bit back an angry remark. _Honestly,_ she chided herself, _you'll sound just like Marguerite if you say that._ Instead, she said, "If the Zanga were here last night, they might have found Ned. He could be safe with them. I'm going in to see what else I can find." She rose. "Are you coming?"

"Hang on. I think we should let the men know what we're doing, don't you?"

"It'll be another hour before they meet us. We're wasting time. We'll just see what we can find, then we'll head back." She was anxious to be moving. Worry over Malone was making her impatient and ever so slightly irrational—although the blonde would never have admitted it. 

It took only a few seconds for her strained patience to snap. She was tired of waiting for the heiress to make up her mind. "You can do what you want. I'm going in." Veronica started into the cave.

"All right, but wait," Marguerite called to her retreating form. Veronica stopped. As she watched, Marguerite pulled a handkerchief from the pocket of her coat and tied it around a low branch of a nearby tree. It was a beacon for the men. "Just in case we find something we're _not_ looking for," the heiress said, and followed the blonde into the cave.

*****

Malone awoke to throbbing. It was nothing new; it was how he'd woken the last four or five times he'd actually managed to fight his way to consciousness. This time, though, it was different. The throbbing wasn't all in his head and it most definitely wasn't all unpleasant.

_I'm dreaming,_ the reporter thought. _But it sure is a pleasant dream._ A smile quirked his lips and he let his imagination wander. He moaned in pleasure but, believing it was a dream, made no effort to open his eyes. 

"Like that, do you?" a female voice said close to his ear—so close he imagined he could feel the woman's breath on his neck. 

"Mm-hmm," he mumbled in response.

"Good."

The tension in his belly grew with the movement the dream-woman made. Hands pressed his shoulders into the soft bed. He moaned again as the pressure on his upper body was released and those same hands ran luxuriously down his chest and belly.

_Good god!_ he thought. _This is some dream!_ He had little against which to compare the sensations; but it was definitely like nothing he'd experienced before, waking or sleeping. It was intense, primal, and oh so good. _I never imagined_

Rational thought vanished as sensation overwhelmed him. Even if his eyes had been open, he wouldn't have seen anything past the fireworks exploding across his vision. He couldn't hear a thing beyond the roaring in his ears, his sense of smell was gone; all he could do was feel. It was oddly similar to losing consciousness again – but very, very different.

Malone cried out at the same time his eyes flew open to a sight he'd never expected to see. The dream-woman was very, very realand he recognized her. Coherent speech had followed rational thought and neither seemed ready to return. Instead, the reporter simply lay there hoping what he thought had just happened was only another delusion caused by the blow to his head.

"Oh! You're awake!" the lovely, naked young woman said. "I knew it would work." She smiled. "Feeling better?"

He wanted to nod, but he was too confused to do even that much. _That was no dream._

The woman frowned a little in concern. She tilted her head to one side, flipping long golden waves of hair over one bare shoulder and exposing Malone felt his cheeks heating with a sudden rush of blood.

"Uhh" It was all he could manage. He tried to look away, to maintain some sort of decorum despite the impossible absurdity of the attempt. It was only then he realized his arms were up over his head, tied to the bedposts. "Uhh" he tried again.

Misunderstanding, the woman asked, "They're not too tight are they?" She seemed genuinely concerned for his comfort. "They have to be secure," she continued, "but I tried to make them comfortable." She leaned forward over him to check his bindings. Instinctively, Malone closed his eyes. He'd been taught to be a gentleman, and this was the only gentlemanly thing he could think of to do.

Finally, the woman sat back, this time to one side of the supine reporter. He kept his eyes firmly shut while he felt her moving, her weight shifting as she climbed off of him.

"You're not unconscious _again_?" It was a pout that was one step short of a whine.

"No." Malone cracked open one eye then quickly shut it again. 

"Then keep your eyes open! Hestia said once you woke up you were to stay awake for the next twelve hours."

"Why?" He was improving. At least his monosyllabic answers were real words now.

"I don't know. Some medical thingy." She shrugged. Malone could feel the bed bounce with the move. "So, open your eyes."

"Could youput something on?"

Again, he could hear the pout in her voice. "Don't you like what you see?"

"No. Yes!" This was not a good day. "Please?"

"Hmpf." She rose from the bed, and he could hear her moving around. "There. Happy?"

Malone opened his eyes again and gave a sigh of relief to see she'd pulled on a robe. "Thank you." Then he glanced down at his own nearly naked form. "Maybe you couldhelp me out here?"

This time he could see her frown clearly. "But I _like_ what I see."

The blond man flushed from the roots of his hair to the tops of his socks. _She left my socks on? This is ridiculous._ "Please?" he tried again. "I'm getting cold."

"Oo! Hestia said to keep you warm!" She looked at him coyly. "I could keep you warm the same way I just did?" she suggested.

If it were possible to die from embarrassment, Malone would have expired on the spot. "Thanks for the offer, butnot just yet. You understand?" _I am never, _ever_, telling anyone about this as long as I live._

Once more, she turned on the pout, but even she couldn't argue with nature. She pulled the blankets up, and Malone finally relaxed a little at this small amount of propriety. 

"All right." Then she smiled—a smile that made Malone nervous. "But we have twelve hours."

*****

_Continued in Round 8_


	8. Bad Weather 8

**Bad Weather**  
A Round Robin Collaboration/Battle between DNash and Zakiyah

**Standard Disclaimer and Special Thanks:** Please see Round 1.  
**Time:** Somewhere in the midst of Season 2.  
**Rating:** PG  
**Spoilers:** _Amazons_

**Round 8 - Zakiyah**

The cave was much deeper than Veronica expected, and while it was clearly a natural formation, it was also quite clearly being used and maintained by someone. At the very edge of the light available from the cave entrance, Veronica found traces of several footprintsand clear indications that someone had tried to sweep them away. She knelt down for a better look, straining her eyes in the dim light, and then caught her breath as a thin line of light on the bottom of one wall caught her eye. The line wouldn't have been visible from any other angle than this.

"Should I light a torch?" Marguerite murmured, her voice pitched to carry to Veronica's ears and no further. 

Startled, Veronica looked up to see Marguerite only a few feet away, her gun drawn, obviously on alert. _I didn't even hear her approach. Luck or skill? With Marguerite, I can never tell!_ Veronica shook her head, both in response to Marguerite's question and in puzzlement over the heiress. She could never predict the other woman. She was just glad Marguerite was showing her calm, competent side instead of her usual temperamental attitude. _There's danger here, I'm sure of it._ "Someone's been covering up tracks here," she whispered. "I think"

Veronica never got a chance to finish her sentence. The slight bit of light suddenly exploded into a bright glare as part of the wall seemed to disappear. The two women squinted against the brightness as a figure charged towards them, whooping a war cry. "Psyche, no!" another voice called out, and a second figure charged after the first.

The surprise of the attack was nearly total, and it might have gone badly for the two women if the first attacker hadn't stumbled just as it reached them. Marguerite ducked its flailing attempt to right itself and skewer her all at once, and swung a fist in the general direction of its head. The second attacker was momentarily fouled up by the gyrations of the first, giving Veronica time to rise and meet the charge. She used the momentum of the attacker's rush in her defense, slamming the figure into a wall.

It was over in a matter of moments. Marguerite straddled her attacker, keeping the fallen figure pinned, while Veronica had a firm hold of her assailant. Blinking in the strong light, Veronica finally recognized the figures. "Amazons?" she exclaimed.

"Looks like it to me," Marguerite agreed, remembering her one encounter with the female warrior civilization. "Hold still," she added irritably as the woman she was pinning to the ground started to struggle. "I don't want to have to hit you again."

"Kala! Are you all right?" the woman on the ground cried, ignoring Marguerite's warning.

"Hush, Psyche!" Veronica's prisoner admonished, twisting her head to try and look at the women who had vanquished them. "Look, I don't know who you are, but you're women, and you're obviously warriors, so you have no need to fight us. We" She finally managed to catch a glimpse of Veronica, and her face abruptly twisted in hatred. "_You!_" she shrieked, struggling wildly. "Traitor!"

Marguerite raised an eyebrow as she watched Veronica secure her grip on the brawny Amazon. "Traitor?" she asked no one in particular.

"Kala, what?" Psyche called, forgetting to struggle against Marguerite in her confusion.

"I should have known when I saw that man and his weapons! Veronica! Traitor! Whore! Death is your portion! I will rip your lying guts out myself!" Kala raged, still trying to free herself from Veronica's grasp. 

As Kala's words sunk in, Veronica slammed the Amazon against the wall again and increased the pressure on one of Kala's arms. "Man? Weapons? You've seen Malone?"

"_They're_ Betrayers? No!" Psyche gasped, then started screaming and struggling.

"Nice to know we're remembered fondly," Marguerite muttered sarcastically as she grabbed a fistful of Psyche's dark hair and used the leverage to bang the Amazon's head against the ground, stunning her momentarily. "I said I didn't want to hit you again, not that I wouldn't," she explained to the now-quiet Amazon. "Now what's all this about us being betrayers?"

Kala's frenzy only increased, and reluctantly Veronica did what needed to be done. Shifting her stance slightly, she tightened a choke hold around Kala's neck. The Amazon coughed and gasped for a few moments, then slumped as her consciousness faded away. 

"Kala! Oh, no! No!" Psyche protested, regaining her voice. 

Marguerite saw tears forming in the Amazon's eyes. _Huh. This one's just a kid – can't be more than sixteen. _"Relax, she'll be fine," Marguerite said as reassuringly as she could manage.

Apparently it wasn't enough, because the Amazon started to cry. "It's all my fault! It's always my fault!"

Kneeling over Kala's now-prone form, Veronica shot Marguerite's captive a disbelieving glance, then did a double take as Marguerite spoke again.

"What nonsense," the dark-haired woman said gently, a wealth of compassion and understanding in her tone. "It was a great setup. You tripped, that's all. It was bad luck. It could have happened to anyone."

"But it always happens to _me_!" Psyche wailed. "I'm always messing up! I'm bad luck on two legs! I'm cursed!" Her face scrunched up, and she stopped fighting Marguerite, struggling instead with the sobs that threatened to overcome her.

Marguerite chuckled, a friendly, understanding sound. "Oh my dear – Psyche, isn't it? Psyche, you're not cursed. You're just young. Trust me, it will get better as you get older."

Psyche twisted her head as far as she could in order to see Marguerite, a stunned expression on her face. Unknown to the young Amazon, her expression was a mirror image of Veronica's. "H-how do you know?"

"It's obvious," Marguerite smiled. Carefully keeping a secure grip on the Amazon with one hand and the weight of her body, the heiress used her free hand to smooth back a lock of hair from Psyche's face. "I bet you've grown a lot in the last six months, haven't you? Am I right?"

"Uh-huh," the Amazon admitted, wide-eyed.

"You've just outgrown your coordination, that's all. It'll come back, and you'll be smarter and better than ever for it. It's one of the advantages of getting older." Marguerite's lips quirked in a wry smile.

Psyche started crying again, this time from hysterical relief. "Really?"

"Really. Just give it time."

Still sobbing, the Amazon now dissolved into hysterical babbling. "Oh, thank the goddesses! It really will go away? I can't stand the thought of failing my sisters, after they adopted me and took me in when no one wanted me, and they were proud of me, but then Selena and Hippolyta had their big fight and some of us came here, and then I couldn't do anything right" The words were barely intelligible, but Marguerite seemed to understand them well enough, soothing the girl and subtly directing questions about what she heard. Veronica could only listen in amazement as Marguerite coaxed practically the entire history of this offshoot of the Amazon tribe from the sobbing teen.

"Better now?" Marguerite said at last when Psyche's sobbing had quieted to occasional sniffles.

"Yes," Psyche answered shakily, still looking as if she might start crying again at any moment.

"You see there's been no real harm done. We're not here to hurt your sisters. We're just here to rescue one of our friends and go home. Just the same as you would do if one of your sisters were in trouble." Marguerite's voice was soothing, hypnotic.

"But you're Betrayers," Psyche hiccuped.

Shaking her head, Marguerite gave Psyche another soft smile. "I don't even know what that is, Psyche. What do you mean by that?"

Psyche colored a bit. "I'm not really sure, I guess," she admitted. "It's what we call those Amazons who stayed in the village and made an alliance with the men and surrounding villages against the headhunters." Psyche lowered her voice a bit. "Is she really Veronica?" she whispered, glancing over at the blonde woman still kneeling over her friend.

"Yes, she really is." Marguerite chuckled. "Why?"

"I've heard a lot about her. She was adopted by the sisters, just like me, but she was so good at everything. Then she left, and later she came back and was the first Betrayer." She shivered slightly. "She's a monster. They say she killed a lot of the sisters when she came back."

"Veronica doesn't intentionally hurt anyone without reason," Marguerite chided gently. "See, she didn't even kill your friend, even though your friend was trying to kill her. Does she look so terrible?"

"No," Psyche admitted. "I thought she'd be bigger."

Marguerite smothered a laugh. "Yes, well that just goes to show you that it's important to think for yourself and not believe every story you hear, particularly when you only hear one side." Her expression grew momentarily distant, and then she looked down at the Amazon with a hint of regret. "But you can believe me when I tell you that we're only here to rescue our friend, and not to hurt your sisters, and that I'm very sorry for this. Remember it's not your fault, and it will be okay."

Psyche and Veronica both gave the dark-haired woman puzzled looks. Before either could form a question, Marguerite's fist shot out and connected forcefully with Psyche's chin, knocking the young Amazon senseless. Sighing, Marguerite rose to her feet, brushing her hands against her jodhpurs. "Well, that was useful," she said calmly.

Veronica opened and closed her mouth a few times, at a loss for words. "Why did you do that?" she asked at last.

Marguerite favored her with a cool look. "She didn't have anything else useful to tell us," she shrugged. 

"No, I mean" Veronica shook her head, bewildered. "You were so nice to her. You made her feel better. You did all that just to get _information_?!? I can't believe it."

If anything, Marguerite's expression grew even icier. "Believe what you want. We needed information. Now we have it. Now all we need is their clothes."

"I didn't mean" Veronica cut her attempt to explain short, distracted by Marguerite's last words. "We need what?"

The wintry chill did not leave Marguerite's gaze as she stared at her companion. "They've got Malone. You're apparently public enemy number one. If you're still serious about going in there after him, knowing what we know now, our best chance will be to go in disguise." The irritation in her tone clearly said she thought Veronica was being unreasonably stupid. "We'd stand out like this, but if we dress in those clothes and keep to cover, we might just be able to sneak in there, get Malone, and get out before anyone's the wiser." She glanced down again at Psyche's fallen form, her gaze lingering on the Amazon's long dark curls. "If she's as much of a bad-luck magnet as she thinks she is and I wear her outfit, people might actually go out of their way to avoid me," she added thoughtfully.

Startled, Veronica looked at Psyche again and realized that from behind there was a passing resemblance between Marguerite and the fallen Amazon, a similarity in their pale skin and long dark hair. No one would mistake the one for the other from the front, particularly not in good light, but Veronica shook her head, irritated with herself for being distracted. "Iall right. That makes sense."

"Of course it does." Marguerite's voice was still cool, but her posture relaxed slightly as she realized the other woman wasn't going to continue to question her actions. "I've got some rope in my pack. We'll need to keep these two safely out of the way – maybe farther back down this passage" She turned away, already thinking of the next few steps, and missed the assessing glance Veronica gave her.

Their preparations did not take long. Veronica had no trouble fitting into Kala's garments; if anything they were rather large for her. By keeping her own clothes on underneath and by dint of a few clever adjustments by Marguerite, they managed to make it work. Marguerite struggled to get herself into Psyche's clothes, particularly the top; the young Amazon was nowhere near as chesty as the older woman. However, whoever had made the outfit had obviously anticipated further changes in Psyche's body; both the skirt and the top were adjustable. The heiress grumbled a lot, but she managed, remarking that at least the Amazon's boots were a comfortable fit. 

They drug the two unconscious and mostly stripped Amazons farther back into the cave where a side branch came to a dead end. Veronica did not miss how Marguerite carefully wrapped a blanket from her pack around the unconscious young Amazon, or how she smoothed back the girl's hair once before they concealed both Amazons under the other blanket. 

"Marguerite"

"Yes?" Marguerite did not look up from stowing her clothes in her pack. She grimaced as she added her ammo belt and holster to the bag. There was absolutely no place to hide it given her current outfit; she was pushing her luck by carrying her revolver tucked into the top of one of the borrowed boots. It was uncomfortable, but Marguerite was willing to put up with a little discomfort in order to remain armed. _Why couldn't the girl have carried a belt pouch or something?_ she fussed inwardly, then became aware of Veronica's continued silence. Sighing, she lashed the pack closed and set it in the deepest shadows before turning to face the blonde. "What is it?"

Judging from the impatient, defensive look on the older woman's face, Marguerite was in no mood for questions. Veronica nodded to herself. _It will wait. Malone firstbut once he's safe, I'm going to ask you a few questions, Marguerite! I don't believe that was all an act, any more than I believe you thought you'd really find Malone the other night. Why do you pretend so hard that you don't care? If I understood that, maybe it wouldn't be so hard to trust you._ Ignoring all the questions battering around inside her skull, Veronica briefly checked the hang of her knife on the new belt and met Marguerite's imperious grey eyes. "Let's go."

The two women started down the hidden passageway to the new Amazon enclave, carefully closing the camouflaging curtain behind them.

*****

Roxton and Challenger trudged back to the clearing, discouraged at their lack of success. There had been no sign of the missing reporter. 

"Maybe Marguerite and Veronica have had better luck," Challenger said hopefully as they approached the designated meeting spot.

"Maybe," Roxton agreed with as much spirit as he could muster. He was irritated by his failure to track the missing man, but there was no point in taking it out on Challenger. He scowled as they entered the clearing and saw no sign of the two women. "They're not here," he said unnecessarily. 

Challenger checked his pocket watch. "We're a little early."

"It's not like Veronica to be late."

"She is with Marguerite," Challenger replied wryly.

"True," Roxton agreed with a half-smile. Reluctantly giving credit where credit was due, he added, "She wouldn't hold up a search for Malone, though."

The two men settled down to wait. Time seemed to crawl, and Roxton had to fight the impulse to ask Challenger the time every five minutes. The appointed meeting time came and went with no sign of Veronica and Marguerite.

Roxton shrugged, feeling a little prickle of anxiety work its way up his spine. "I don't like this," he muttered.

"It could be a good sign," Challenger pointed out. "Maybe they found something."

"That's not what I meant." Roxton got to his feet and gripped his rifle in both hands, bringing it up to his shoulder. "The jungle just went totally quiet. Something's coming."

"Marguerite and Veronica?" Challenger offered, but brought his rifle up as well. He'd learned to respect the instincts of the expedition's hunter and guide.

"Too big – or too many," Roxton said tersely, now able to distinguish enough noises to tell it was not their missing companions. He glanced around quickly, but the clearing offered no real shelter. "Get ready – whatever it is, here it comes!"

*****

_Continued in Round 9_


	9. Bad Weather 9

**Bad Weather**  
A Round Robin Collaboration/Battle between DNash and Zakiyah

**Standard Disclaimer and Special Thanks:** Please see Round 1.  
**Time:** Somewhere in the midst of Season 2.  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Spoilers:** _Amazons_

**Round 9 - DNash**

Malone found he had great incentive for staying awake. While he was truly helpless, bound as he was, at least if he remained conscious he could try talking the amorous Amazon out of anything she might attempt to do. It wasn't easy—the talking or the staying awake—but he was managing.

"I'm bored," whined Phoebe. "Are you _sure_ you don't want me to—?"

"No!" the reporter said quickly. It didn't matter what she'd been about to say; he knew it wouldn't be a good idea.

"But I'm _bored_!"

Malone thought hard. How could he distract her? "We could play a game."

Phoebe's face lit up. "I like games," she said with a leer.

"Not that kind of game."

Her face fell into the pout that was becoming all too familiar to Malone. He sighed. "A word game or something," he clarified. "Unless you happen to have a deck of cards…"

This time her expression was blank.

"I didn't think so. How about we play Geography?"

Still no inkling of recognition in the Amazon's eyes.

"Right. Not a whole lot of choices when your entire world is the Plateau." He wracked his brain for inspiration, difficult though it was to think in his present circumstances. He was supremely grateful for the blankets that covered him—providing both warmth and decency—but he'd have given anything to be fully clothed. _And untied, and a hundred miles away from here,_ his mind added. 

An idea finally came to him. "How about we play Word Association? I'll say a word, and you say the first thing that comes into your head, then I say the first thing that comes into my head after that, and so on," he explained.

"Hmm." The Amazon considered, her brow furrowed in concentration. Malone got the impression she wasn't accustomed to thinking quite so hard. "All right," she said at last.

"Okay." Now that he had to begin, his mind was a blank. He glanced around the room as best he could from where he lay, looking for inspiration. "Umm…blanket."

"Bed," Phoebe promptly replied.

"Sleep."

"No."

"No?" the reporter echoed, caught off guard by this response.

"Yes." Unaware of his confusion, the Amazon was still trying to play the game.

"Yes?"

"Yes?" Phoebe's eyes were wide and hopeful.

"What?"

"Sex!"

"Stop!" Already the game had backfired on him.

"Go!"

"No. Stop. Please."

Phoebe tilted her head to one side inquiringly, resembling nothing so much as Golden Retriever. "That's three words. I don't know which to answer."

Again, Malone sighed heavily. "Never mind." It was going to be a long twelve hours.

*****

Carrying the lanterns left behind in the tunnel by the captive Amazons, it took Marguerite and Veronica several tense minutes to traverse the tunnel. Shortly before its end, it made one last turn. The women peered cautiously around the bend.

"The new village Psyche told us about," whispered Veronica.

She was obviously correct, so Marguerite saw no reason to comment. The pair scanned the scene, taking in the layout, defenses, population.

"There." Veronica pointed off to their left. "That building with the guard in front of it. That looks a lot like a jail to me. And that seems the most likely place they'd be holding Malone."

Marguerite nodded and blew out the lantern she held, setting it down on the tunnel floor. "All right. I'll distract the guard so you can get inside." The heiress rose from her crouch and started forward.

Veronica put a hand on her arm to forestall her. "Hang on."

"Nope. Remember the last time we dealt with these women? _I_ get to make the plans." Giving the younger woman no time to argue, she stepped out of the tunnel. Veronica took a moment to snarl a little in frustration before following several steps behind.

The blonde watched the reactions of the women at the sight of Marguerite. The heiress had been right; not wanting to be sucked into her vortex of bad luck, they gave her a wide berth. Veronica chuckled as the dark-haired woman intentionally stumbled, reinforcing the image that she was truly the awkward youth, Psyche.

Marguerite made her way across the open yard in the general direction of the village's jail. Still no one approached her. She allowed herself the barest of ironic smiles, hidden by the fall of her long, dark curls. As she neared the jail, she dared not spare a glance to find Veronica; the heiress could only trust the blonde was in position and ready for her to make her move.

Timing it carefully, Marguerite continued forward until she was within easy reach of the guard. Then she struck. Tripping over an imagined impediment, she careened forward into the Amazon. Taken complete by surprise, the woman let go the spear she held and put out her arms, trying both to fend off the heiress and to keep her from falling. She was unsuccessful at both.

While the two women rolled over one another in a confused tangle of limbs, Veronica slipped in around them and entered the jail. She heard the woman curse, "Damn it, Psyche!" just as she pulled the door shut behind her. Veronica had to stifle a chuckle.

She looked around as her eyes adjusted to the gloom of the building. There was little in it—and no cells. _Great,_ she thought angrily. Then she saw the open trap door. She crossed the room to it and peered down. _Stairs. Good_. She drew her knife and began her descent.

There was one guard at the bottom. As quickly and quietly as she could, Veronica crept up behind her. Using the hilt of her knife and both hands, she struck the woman in the head. The Amazon crumpled to the ground, senseless.

Veronica searched the woman and soon found what she was looking for. Knife in one hand, key in the other, she moved quickly along the torch-lit corridor. "Malone?" she called in a harsh whisper. She reached the first cell door and squinted into the darkness inside. "Malone?"

There was no response and she could make out no sign of any occupants. She moved on. The next cell was just as empty as the first, but in the last one Veronica saw movement.

"Malone?" she hissed. Then a little louder, "Malone?"

"Veronica?"

It wasn't Ned's voice, but the blonde woman recognized it. She peered intently into the cell. "Kai? Is that you?"

"Veronica!" was the Zanga man's joyful, though subdued, reply.

Veronica used the key she'd taken from the guard and opened the cell door. It was difficult to tell in the dim light, but she thought Kai was looking a bit worse for wear. "Are you all right?" she asked, extending a hand to guide him out of the cell.

He took the hand gratefully. "Well enough, although I've known more pleasant days."

"How did you get here?"

"Ardo and I took shelter from the storm late last night. We found your friend Malone and brought him with us to a cave we thought was safe. Clearly, we were wrong." He shook his head in regret.

"Where are Malone and Ardo?" Veronica asked. She glanced over his shoulder into the cell but could see no one.

"I don't know. We were separated by the guards, and Malone was hurt."

"By one of the Amazons?" Her eyes flashed in anticipation of revenge for any harm the women had done to the reporter.

But Kai shook his head again, dark hair falling over his eyes. He used one graceful hand to brush it back. "No. He was hurt when Ardo and I found him."

It was small consolation, but Veronica was willing to take any she could get. "We have to find them. Do you have any idea where they might have been taken?"

"No," the Zanga said with remorse. "I think one of the Amazons meant to tend Malone, but I can't be certain. And I can't even guess what they've done with Ardo. I suspected to find him here when they brought me back, but…" There was worry and strain in Kai's voice.

Veronica was about to reassure him when they heard footsteps on the stairs. She stepped in front of Kai, her knife ready to defend against attack.

*****

"Raptors!" shouted Roxton unnecessarily. He aimed and fired, slowing the beast. Another shot took it down, but there were more behind. "Challenger!"

The inventor was ahead of him. Rifle at the ready, he shot twice in rapid succession, killing the second raptor. "Come on!" he shouted, drawing his pistol and continuing to fire.

The men ran. They were only a few short strides ahead of the prehistoric creatures. An abrupt dart to the left and they were able to avoid the onrushing animals for a moment behind a stand of rocks and thick-trunked trees. Roxton reloaded his rifle and fired, killing another raptor as it ran. The ones behind screeched in reaction, but didn't slow down.

"Where the hell are they coming from?" It was a rhetorical question on the hunter's part, and Challenger took it as such. Roxton drew his pistol and was about to fire again when he felt the inventor's hand on his arm.

"Wait," said Challenger.

"Are you crazy?!"

"They're not after us. Wait!"

The inventor was right. The remaining few raptors showed no interest in the men as they charged past, intent only on wherever they were going.

Roxton's eyes widened in realization, and he shoved the sidearm back in its holster. "They're not after anything," he said, reloading the rifle one more time. He took a deep breath and stepped out from the limited cover.

"John, what are you doing?!" shouted Challenger.

But there wasn't time to respond. Roxton aimed high and back the way they had come. Two shots rang out followed immediately by an angry roar. Then time seemed frozen briefly before the huge T-Rex swayed on its clawed feet and fell heavily to one side.

Roxton slowly lowered his weapon.

"Nice shot," said Challenger, coming to stand beside him.

"Thank you, George," Roxton answered with a nonchalant smile. Both men's hearts were racing, and the casual exchange gave each a moment to collect himself. They took a second to admire the kill as if it were nothing more than a prize on an African safari. "Time to go. Scavengers will be here in minutes with all this fresh meat around."

"You're right." They shouldered their weapons and moved off.

*****

_Continued in Round 10_


	10. Bad Weather 10

**Bad Weather**  
A Round Robin Collaboration/Battle between DNash and Zakiyah

**Standard Disclaimer and Special Thanks:** Please see Round 1.  
**Time:** Somewhere in the midst of Season 2.  
**Rating:** PG  
**Spoilers:** _Amazons_

**Round 10 - Zakiyah**

Veronica sighed in relief as Marguerite came into view, dragging the unconscious Amazon guard.

"There you are," the dark-haired woman said with some asperity. "Well, come on – give me a hand here!" She huffed with irritation as the blonde hurried to join her. Marguerite glanced at the inert form of the guard Veronica had taken down. "I see you were busy, too," she remarked wryly. "Any sign of Malone?"

"He was here, but taken away by one of the Amazons. Kai says he was hurt."

"By the Amazons?" Marguerite asked, startled. "I thought they usually had other things in mind when it came to men." She frowned, worried in spite of herself. _I didn't think Malone was in danger from the Amazonsat least not immediately. Psyche made it sound like these were a really traditionalist bunch, and I certainly remember the first thing they wanted from the men the last time_

"Kai said Malone was hurt when they found him. They were captured by these Amazons after that," Veronica clarified.

"Figures," Marguerite grunted, pulling the unconscious guard down another few steps. "What'd he do, hit his head again?"

Kai raised his eyebrows. "His head was hurt, yes," he answered, surprised. "How did you know?"

"Experience." Marguerite changed the subject. "Let's put her in this cell here."

"Why'd you knock her out, anyway?" Veronica wanted to know. "The others might notice she's not at her post."

Marguerite looked annoyed. She dumped the unconscious Amazon into the cell with unnecessary force. "Because she got a good look at me and realized I wasn't Psyche, that's why," she said in disgust. "I'm just lucky no one else noticed my 'accident'; I was able to knock her out and drag her inside without being spotted. Unless of course you would have preferred I let her raise the alarm?" she added sarcastically. She raised an inquisitive eyebrow, glancing suggestively from Veronica to the second guard. 

"Of course not," Veronica replied, somewhat annoyed herself by Marguerite's continued attitude. "But that means someone is bound to notice something's wrong sooner rather than later. We've got to find Malone." She bent down and dragged the other insensible Amazon into the cell with the first, using the key she'd taken from the woman to lock them both in.

Marguerite nodded. "We should split up and search, then – it'll be fastest." She turned to look at Kai. "Um – Veronica and I should search, anyway. I'm afraid you'd stick out like a sore thumb, even if we put you in one of these Amazons' skirts."

Kai looked distinctly unhappy. "You are right – but I must help Ardo."

"Ardo?" Marguerite shot Veronica a questioning look.

"Kai's friend – another of the Zanga. They found Malone," Veronica explained hurriedly. "Kai, we'll look for Ardo as well as Malone, but Marguerite's right – you just don't see men wandering around an Amazon village."

"But there is something you can do to help," Marguerite went on before Kai could object.

The tall Zanga looked at her. "What is it?"

"I'll show you the way back to the tunnel that leads out to the rest of the Plateau. I want you to hide near the entrance and keep an eye out for any unusual activity in the village. If either Veronica or I are caught, I'm sure there will be quite a fuss. If you see that, do your best to escape."

"It is a good plan," Kai agreed after a moment. 

Marguerite smiled wryly. "Oh, and keep an eye out for Roxton and Challenger. I'm sure they'll be along any time now." 

Veronica looked at the heiress, momentarily surprised, and then memory made her gasp. "Oh – the handkerchief!"

"The handkerchief, not that Roxton wouldn't track us down anyway," Marguerite agreed. "And as much as I'm sure Lord Roxton would enjoy another little visit with the Amazons, getting him back out of here would be like trying to get the fox out of the henhouse – or the goat out of the"

"We get the idea, Marguerite. Time's running short," Veronica interrupted, quite sure she didn't want to hear the rest of Marguerite's analogies. _They must have had more of a fight than I'd thought,_ she mused. Underneath the signs of ill-temper, Marguerite looked distinctly unhappy. _Either that, or she's actually worried about them!_

Marguerite started and flushed a bit, aware that in her anxiety she had probably said more than she should. "Yes, you're right."

The two women and the Zanga quickly made their way back up the stairs and to the doorway of the prison building. Peeking out carefully, they saw no one immediately at hand. 

"Looks clear. I'll continue on this side of the village; you take the other after you get Kai to safety. Good luck," Veronica whispered.

"You too." Taking a deep breath, the three snuck out of the building and made their separate ways across the village.

*****

"Their trail leads to that cave over there," Roxton said, crouched down to examine the ground. "And look!" He gestured towards the cave entrance. A white bit of fabric fluttered in the breeze, tied to a low branch near the cave entrance.

Challenger strode over and looked at it. "Marguerite's handkerchief."

"Yes," Roxton agreed, examining it carefully before untying it and placing it in one of the pockets in his vest. "She must have left it here as a sign. And since their tracks go in there but don't come out"

"They must still be in there," Challenger finished.

"Exactly. Either they found something, or something found them." Roxton set down his pack for a moment and fished out a torch. After so many expeditions into caves, he regularly packed at least one, as did most of the explorers. Beside him, Challenger moved to do the same, but Roxton waved him off. "No. Keep yours in reserve, in case we need it." Lighting the torch, he handed it to Challenger, shrugged back into his pack, and picked up his rifle. "Shall we see what little surprises this cave holds?"

The two men entered the cave cautiously, constantly scanning the ground and their surroundings. It was a larger cave than it had looked from the outside. Marguerite and Veronica's tracks were clear and simple to follow until the light from the outside had mostly disappeared, leaving them with only torchlight for illumination. Then the tracks became wildly confused.

"There was some kind of fight here," Roxton said grimly, "and" His voice trailed off for a moment, and then he glanced up at Challenger, alarm written all over his face. "from the looks of it, at least one body was dragged off that way." 

"You don't think?" Challenger didn't want to say the rest of it, but his concern was obvious. 

"As far as I can tell, both Marguerite's and Veronica's tracks end here," Roxton answered tersely. "I'd say they're definitely in trouble." He hurried forward, following the long track of the dragged body, trusting Challenger to keep up. He tried not to think about what might have happened to the two women, to keep his mind focused on the trail and on spotting any danger that might arise, but he couldn't fight down the fear that was eating at him. _Damn! I should never have agreed to split up the search party!_ If something dire had happened, he'd never forgive himself.

They rounded a corner, and both men's hearts dropped into their boots. In the flickering light of the torch, Marguerite's pack was plainly visible, her boots propped neatly beside it. Just beyond, an expedition blanket was spread over something large and lumpysomething that looked very much like two still human forms.

"Oh no," Challenger breathed. He felt rooted to the spot, unable to do anything but raise the torch higher and hope his eyes were playing tricks. 

Roxton sprang forward, an incoherent exclamation bursting from his lips. He whipped back the blanket and for a moment his heart stopped entirely. Beneath the blanket, two women lay still, the dark-haired head of one pillowed on the shoulder of the blonde. They were bound, gagged, and nearly nudeand he gasped in relief as he realized they were not Marguerite and Veronica. "It's not them, George."

"Thank goodness," Challenger sighed in relief. "But if it's not them, who on earth are they?" He looked at them again and blushed as their nearly naked state fully registered. The brunette was partially wrapped in a blanket, but the blonde He cleared his throat as Roxton turned from the unconscious women and stepped towards Marguerite's abandoned pack. "Um, John, you might want to cover them up again," the scientist pointed out, his cheeks flushing.

"Huh? Oh, of course." Roxton said distractedly, turning back and gently pulling the blanket back up over their forms to just below their faces. He turned back to Marguerite's pack and started rummaging through it, his jaw tightening as he found her clothes, empty gun belt, and ammo pouch. "I have no idea who they are," he said at last, answering Challenger's question. "What I want to know is, where are Veronica and Marguerite – and what is Marguerite doing running around without her clothes?"

_Continued in Round 11_


	11. Bad Weather 11

**Bad Weather**  
A Round Robin Collaboration/Battle between DNash and Zakiyah

**Standard Disclaimer and Special Thanks:** Please see Round 1.  
**Time:** Somewhere in the midst of Season 2.  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Spoilers:** _Amazons_

**Round 11 - DNash**

"Considering the state of these twoladies," said Challenger, clearing his throat uncomfortably, "my guess is she and Veronica are in disguise."

It made sense. Roxton nodded. Holding up the empty gun belt, he said, "At least we know they're not completely unarmed."

"Small blessings, John?"

"Right." The hunter returned the belt to the pack and rose. "Well, if they're not here and they're not back at the meeting place, they still have to be somewhere. There must be another way out of this cave." He looked around the area, trying to spot some sign of the women's exit. "Challenger, the torch!" he said suddenly, gesturing for the older man to bring it closer.

Challenger held the torch over the patch of ground where Roxton pointed. "Footprints."

"And that set is definitely Veronica's. Come on."

*****

Veronica peered in through the window of yet another building. This one, too, was empty. She could make out a bed, table, and other simple furnishings, but no people. _This isn't good,_ she thought. _If the buildings are empty, they must be gathering for the 'festivities', which means we have to find Ardo and Malone—and _fast_._

She heard a noise then, diminished by distance but recognizable. Cautiously, not trusting the village to be as empty as it appeared, she made her way toward the sound. As she approached, it became clearer. Veronica paused in the shadow of a building and peeked around the corner.

_Damn. I was right._

*****

Marguerite was pleasantly surprised with the ease with which she was able to get Kai across the village and out of sight. Then a thought occurred to her. If no one was here, where were they all? She found her concern for Malone increasing. _What are you worried about? _she asked herself impatiently. _You know what happened last time we dealt with these women. He's probably having the time of his life._

*****

_Come on, Ned, _the reporter chided himself. _She's no genius. You should be able to out-think her._ But he was hardly at his best. The tension caused by trying to keep Phoebe at bay was starting to wear on him; his head ached. Much of the pain was residual from being knocked out in the storm, but the constant battle of wits wasn't helping. And there was an itch on his left thigh that was driving him crazy. He dared not ask Phoebe to scratch it for him.

"Now?"

"I'm really not feeling up to it," insisted Malone again, wearily. He feared his protests were carrying less and less weight with the lustful Amazon. She'd been reasonably patient with his protests up to this point, but her patience was obviously wearing thin.

"You were up to it earlier, and you weren't even awake!" Phoebe argued. She knelt next to him on the large bed, ran her fingers teasingly along his exposed collarbone.

"Yeah Let's not mention that to anyone, all right?" _Wouldn't that be just my luck?_ he thought._ Veronica would never forgive me for it, and Marguerite would never let me forget it._ In his heart he knew it wasn't entirely true. Veronica would eventually forgive him for the encounter—after all, it hadn't been his choice. Marguerite, on the other hand _I have _got_ to get out of here._

"Listen," he tried again. "I'm getting kind of stiff." When Phoebe's eyes brightened, he realized he'd made a poor choice of words. "I mean my _back_ is getting stiff," he quickly added. "And my arms are falling asleep. I don't suppose you coulduntie me?" He gave her his best hopeful puppy-dog look.

The Amazon frowned. "It's against the rules. Selena would be furious."

"We don't have to tell Selena. You could just untie me for a little while. I could walk around the room, stretch my legs" _Put some clothes on._ "and no one would be the wiser."

"Hmm. I don't know"

_Please, please,_ the reporter pleaded silently.

But the decision was taken from Phoebe as there came a knock on the door. Without waiting for a response, Hestia entered the room. Her eyes widened in surprise and then narrowed in anger at the scene.

"Phoebe, you were supposed to call me when he woke up!" she admonished.

Phoebe shrugged. "I was busy when he woke up," she answered. Then she gave the red-haired young healer a condescending look. "And _you_ said he wouldn't be _good_ for anything."

_Great,_ thought Malone. _So much for not telling anyone._

Hestia sat on the bed, and Malone found himself caught between the two women. _You know, under other circumstances_ his libido began. He beat it vehemently back.

The healer leaned over him, reaching out a gentle hand to check the bump on his head.

"Ow!" exclaimed Ned involuntarily, trying unsuccessfully to move away. Any last amorous thoughts were instantly quashed by the sudden pain.

Hestia gave him a concerned look but didn't respond. She turned to Phoebe. "Fetch me a candle."

The young woman harrumphed but complied.

"A _lit_ candle," amended the healer.

Phoebe lit the candle and handed it over.

Careful not to drip wax on her patient, Hestia held the candle close to Malone's face, checking the reaction of his eyes to the light. "Better," she pronounced. She placed the candle on a small, low table and stood. Looking pointedly at Phoebe, she said, "The festivities are about to begin. If you want to keep this one" She gave a nod of her head to indicate the supine form of Malone. "you'd best get ready for combat." 

Phoebe had enough sense to glance at her thin robe and look sheepish. "I'll change now. But I'm keeping this one no matter what happens," she added defiantly.

The red-head snorted derisively. "I'm sure Selena will have something to say about that. You better come soon." She turned and left without further comment.

Reluctant to draw attention to himself but curious nonetheless, Malone spoke up. "Um, 'festivities'? Are these the same 'festivities' you were having last time we met?"

"Uh-huh." Phoebe dropped her robe to the ground without preamble.

Malone immediately looked away. "But there aren't any cannibal tribes near hereare there?"

"Uh-uh."

It was small comfort to the reporter. "So, what do you do with the men once you'redone with them?"

"That's a surprise."

Again Malone was forced to turn his head as the naked Amazon moved about the room collecting clothing and weapons. "A surprise?" he said, worried.

"Uh-huh."

He gave up trying to avoid looking at her and instead closed his eyes. Suddenly he felt that much more vulnerable. "A _good_ surprise?" He couldn't think what would constitute a 'good surprise' other than being freed, and he sincerely doubted that was what the Amazons had planned.

He felt movement nearby and opened one eye a fraction, then clamped it shut.

"Maybe," purred Phoebe close to his ear. She nibbled his earlobe playfully, and against his will Malone found himself aroused.

_Damn it!_ he cursed inwardly and pulled up every unpleasant image he could find to counteract the Amazon's effects on him.

"Mmm," the woman moaned, reluctantly releasing his ear. She sighed mournfully and sat back. "I have to go," she said apologetically and climbed off the bed.

Malone could hear more movement, and he assumed she was finally dressing, but he didn't dare look. Without warning, Phoebe planted a kiss on his unsuspecting mouth.

"You be a good boy and stay awake while I'm gone. I'll be back soon."

Several minutes of silence passed before Malone opened his eyes once more. He was alone. Ned sighed in relief. _Now,_ he thought, _how do I get out of these restraints?_

He gave an experimental tug on one, but it was quite secure. All the twisting and turning he could do with his wrists wasn't going to free him. He was hit with a strong feeling of ambivalence. He desperately hoped one of his friends was coming to rescue him, but he really didn't want to be found like this.

"Damn," he muttered to the empty room. "And my leg _still_ itches!"

_Continued in Round 12_


	12. Bad Weather 12

**Bad Weather**  
A Round Robin Collaboration/Battle between DNash and Zakiyah

**Standard Disclaimer and Special Thanks:** Please see Round 1.  
**Time:** Somewhere in the midst of Season 2.  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Spoilers:** _Amazons_ and _Camelot_

**Round 12 – Zakiyah**

"Well, well, well," drawled an all-too-familiar voice from the doorway. "I'd say it looks like at least _some_ of your itches have been scratched."

_Oh, no. Oh no no no no no_ Malone slowly turned his head to look back at the doorway, hoping the voice had been some kind of hallucination. A very scantily clad Marguerite stood just inside the room, her lips curved in a Mona Lisa smile and her grey eyes sparkling with unconcealed amusement. He swallowed, his throat suddenly very dry. He felt himself blushing furiously. "Marguerite," he croaked. "Thisuhthis isn't what ituhlooks like"

"Oh, I'd say it's _exactly_ what it looks like," Marguerite disagreed, stepping closer.

Nearly incoherent from mortification, Malone reflexively crossed his legs, then hastily uncrossed them as the movement caused the blanket to shift, exposing part of his thigh. He looked up at Marguerite beseechingly. "uhplease"

Marguerite walked to the head of the bed, drawing the knife that dangled from her belt. "Relax, Malone, I'm here to rescue you. Unless you don't _want_ to be rescued?" she added with barbed sweetness.

"NO! I mean, yes, please! I mean" He closed his eyes briefly, wishing the ground would open and swallow him whole. "Help?" he whimpered.

The bindings around his left wrist slackened suddenly. "Got it," Marguerite said with satisfaction. "These are tough, but I should have your other arm loose in a minute."

Malone hastily freed his left arm and grabbed onto the blanket, securing it over himself as best as he could and ignoring Marguerite's form as she leaned over him. Moments later his right arm was free as well. "Thank you," he breathed, tucking the blanket even more securely around his naked form. "Thank you, thank you, thank you..." He was still scarlet, and he didn't dare look at Marguerite's face, afraid of the mockery he would see there.

Had he but known it, Marguerite wasn't paying any attention to him as she quickly hunted around the room. It only took her a few seconds to find what she was looking for. "Here," she called, tossing Malone his clothes. "Hurry up and get dressed."

_Dressed_ At that moment it was the most beautiful word Malone had ever heard. He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, then stopped as Marguerite's continued movements caught his eye. He blushed again. "Uh, Marguerite"

She turned back to him inquiringly. "Yes?"

"Could I have a little privacy?"

A little smirk hovered at the corner of Marguerite's mouth. "_Now_ you're getting shy? I'd think after all this you'd be a little less—inhibited?" Her expression spoke volumes.

Malone winced. _She's never, ever, _ever_ going to let me forget this._ "Please?"

Marguerite considered for a moment, then shook her head. _I could say more, but time is pressing._ "Oh, all right, but hurry up. We need to get out of here before your little playmate – or was it playmates? Whichever, before the Amazons come back from their wargames." She ostentatiously turned her back and marched over to the doorway, keeping a careful eye on the outside. _He seems to be okay and mobile, which is more than I expected – or feared. If things remain this quiet, smuggling him back to the tunnel shouldn't be hardbut maybe I should hunt around here for a cloak or something to wrap him up in, just in case?_

Heaving a sigh of relief, Malone struggled into his clothes as fast as he could. In his haste, he never noticed knocking over the candle Hestia had left on the low table beside the bed. He'd shoved his feet into his boots and was buckling his belt when the soft crackling noise finally caught his attention.

"What the?" He looked over at the sound just in time to see his discarded blanket go up like a torch, igniting the bed and the wall behind it.

Alerted by his exclamation, Marguerite turned and saw the beginnings of a raging inferno. Her eyes widened. "Damnit!"

*****

"Better leave the torch here, George. I think I see daylight ahead," Roxton warned.

Challenger silently propped the torch against one stone wall and eyed his companion thoughtfully. To the casual eye Roxton was in full hunter mode, every muscle taut and ready for action, all his senses on alert, all his energies focused on the task at hand. However, Challenger had known him too long to be fooled now; he could hear the concern and the hints of guilt in the hunter's overly controlled tones. _I'd better keep a close eye on him; in this mood, he's far too likely to try something rash if he thinks the others are in danger._ "Ready," he said quietly, keeping his thoughts to himself.

"I'd be surprised if the other end isn't guarded. Be prepared," Roxton muttered before moving forward. 

They were scarcely twenty feet from the tunnel exit when a slight sound to their right alerted them to the fact that they were not alone. Almost faster than the eye could follow, Roxton whirled around, slamming the person against one wall of the cave with one arm and the weight of his body while bringing his pistol up to rest against the man's temple.

_Man?_ Challenger wondered, blinking.

"What the?" Roxton ground out, equally confused.

The man coughed once, trying to get his breath back. "Peace!" he gasped.

"Good heavens. It's a Zanga!" Challenger exclaimed.

Roxton let the man go and lowered the pistol with a grunt of apology, but he did not holster his gun. "How did you get here?"

"I am Kai," the Zanga introduced himself. "Veronica freed me, and Marguerite asked me to wait here and watch for you."

"You've seen them? What about Malone?" Challenger inquired eagerly.

"Where are they? Are they all right?" Roxton demanded, equally excited.

"Marguerite asked that I guard here and stop you when you came."

"She _what_?" Roxton was incredulous. His gun hand rose a few inches. "I don't believe you."

"You must have misunderstood. We're here to rescue our friends," Challenger said placatingly.

Kai shook his head stubbornly, although his eyes never left the gun. "No, I didn't misunderstand. She told me a message to tell you."

"What is it?" Roxton growled.

Kai closed his eyes, trying to remember the exact words. The language these explorers spoke was not the Zanga tongue, making his task harder. He could hear the dark-haired man shift impatiently. Finally, when he was sure he had it right, he opened his eyes again to look directly at Roxton. "She said, 'John, please stay in the tunnel. Veronica and I think we can get Malone out without causing a fuss. Don't make things harder for us. Keep an eye on the village. You'll know if we fail. I trust my knight in shining armor.' That was all." He held his breath, hoping he'd gotten it right. The last words in particular made no sense to him.

Roxton exhaled a long, shaky breath and lowered his gun once again.

"Knight in shining armor?" Challenger echoed. "What on earth is she talking about?"

Roxton knew. "You weren't there George, but I remember." Unbidden, memories of when she'd first called him her knight in shining armor flooded his mind. He could still feel her blood on his hands, and the wrenching combination of wonder and fear as her glassy eyes had met his and those words tumbled from her lips. So many meanings in those simple words _She was doing the right thing then, despite the risk. She trusts me. She's asking me to trust her._ He sighed. He wanted nothing more than to go charging to the rescue – and she knew it, or she would not have left him that message. "We stay herefor now." Turning away from the other men's puzzled looks, Roxton fixed his eyes on the village, brooding in silence.

*****

_Why couldn't they have left Ardo in the cell with Kai?_ Veronica fumed silently as she surveyed the situation. The Zanga was in the middle of a group of half-a-dozen other men. They were all sitting on the ground in the village square, their legs hobbled. The square itself was thronged with at least twenty cheering, whistling Amazons, egging on the two combatants in the middle ring. A regal figure sat in a carved chair watching it all. A golden mask shaped like the crescent moon concealed half her face, but Veronica recognized her easily. _Selena. I'd better be _really_ careful; she'll recognize me as easily as I do her._

She studied the situation for several minutes, biting her lip. _It's impossible. There's no way I can get Ardo free without someone noticing – and if someone notices, I'm dead._ She scowled in frustration. _My only chance is to follow whoever claims him, and hope I can ambush her once she's out of sight of the others._ She snorted quietly. _With my luck, he'll be like Malone, and claimed by at least two of them!_ She winced, trying to think of a better plan.

An acrid odor assailed her nostrils, and she abruptly looked away from the fight. _Is that?_

"_Fire!_" shrieked one of the Amazons, pointing an arm at the great clouds of thick black smoke rising from another part of the village.

_Concluded in Round 13_


	13. Bad Weather 13

**Bad Weather**  
A Round Robin Collaboration/Battle between DNash and Zakiyah

**Standard Disclaimer and Special Thanks:** Please see Round 1.  
**Time:** Somewhere in the midst of Season 2.  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Spoilers:** _Amazons_

**Round 13 - DNash (with a little help from Zakiyah)**

Selena stood and began shouting orders. "Fetch water! We can't allow the blaze to spread." She turned to a tall, sturdy woman next to her. "Hali, take the men back to the cells. The festivities will have to wait."

"Yes, Selena," the dark-haired Amazon nodded.

While most of the women scattered to battle the fire, Hali corralled the men. "On your feet, you lot!" she ordered. Awkwardly, the men rose. "To the cells. You know the way. Now move!"

The line of men shuffled toward the prison building where Veronica had found Kai. _Excellent,_ the blonde thought. Using the chaos around her to help shield herself from discovery, she followed them.

That was when she heard the gunshot.

*****

"You know, Malone," spat Marguerite, "you might try _thinking_ before acting once in a while!"

"It was an accident!" protested the reporter.

The heiress just shook her head. "Why doesn't that surprise me? Come on. We have to get out of here." Trusting him to have at least what little sense it took to follow her, she ran from the room. Malone was close on her heels, his headache temporarily forgotten in the desperate need for escape.

They weren't a dozen steps from the hut when the whole thing erupted in flames.

"My god!" exclaimed Malone.

"We're not out of the woods yet. Keep running!"

"Huh?" Ned looked around, and his eyes widened in terror. Once again, he was racing after Marguerite as Amazons appeared from nowhere, all of them heading in their direction.

"A man!" shouted a solidly-built, red-headed Amazon. In one hand she carried a large bucket of water, but with the other she was pointing at the fleeing Malone. None of her sisters heard her cry, intent as they were on the fire. The lone woman looked around, spotted Marguerite. "Psyche!" she shouted, believing the heiress to be the maladroit teenager whose clothing she wore. "Stop him!"

Marguerite ignored her and continued to run.

The Amazon couldn't believe her eyes. Was Psyche running away? She knew the girl was awkward and young, but she'd never thought her a coward. Then understanding struck; it wasn't Psyche. One of her sisters rushed by, and she handed off her bucket to the woman who continued to run with it toward the blaze. Then she drew a knife from her belt and poised to throw it.

Malone caught the movement from the corner of one eye. "Marguerite, look out!"

It was warning enough. Marguerite dove to the ground out of the line of the oncoming blade. She rolled, pulling her pistol from her boot. A split second to aim, she fired, and dropped the Amazon with one shot.

*****

"Gunshot?" queried the startled Challenger.

"So much for staying here," replied Roxton. He turned to Kai. "Wait for us." The Zanga man nodded, happy to comply. "Come on, George."

They had been waiting a few yards back out of sight of the tunnel's opening. Now they rounded the last bend and stood at its mouth. Pandemonium assaulted their senses. Smoke and shouts filled the air with equal force. The two men squinted through the thick haze, trying to spot any sort of reference point in the confusion.

"There!" said Challenger, pointing. Roxton followed the line of his finger.

"Marguerite and Malone!" he exclaimed. The two were trying to remain out of sight behind an overturned cart. The body of an Amazon—whether dead or merely unconscious, he couldn't tell—was secreted with them. "But where's Veronica?"

At that moment, Marguerite spotted them. "Get back, you idiots!" she yelled. She waved them back, then used the same empty hand to shove Malone in their direction. "Go!" she ordered him.

"But—"

"_Go!_ You stick out like a sore thumb. I'll find Veronica," the heiress said, guessing at the reason for his reluctance. She pushed him again. "Don't make me tell you again!"

Torn with indecision, the reporter finally gave in. He made a mad dash across the open area toward the tunnel.

Marguerite watched until he was safely with the other men. Tucking her gun back into its hiding place, she grabbed a discarded bucket and disappeared into the turmoil of the village.

"We have to go after her!" exclaimed Roxton. It took both Challenger and Malone to stop him.

"We can't," the reporter insisted. "Marguerite's right. We'd stand out a mile. Any one of us would be spotted instantly."

"I'm not going to stand here and do nothing!"

"We don't have to," Challenger said. His eyes were alight with inspiration. "When we get out of here, we're going to have to seal this tunnel behind us. The Amazons are distracted now, but they'll have the fire under control before much longer. We must find a way to block their access through the tunnel, or they'll come after us immediately."

"How are we going to do that?" asked Malone.

"We find the weakest point and make it collapse."

Despite his concern for Marguerite and Veronica, Roxton was intrigued. "Why, George, you make it sound so simple," he said dryly. 

"First, we need to make certain those two women we found are out of harm's way."

Malone was becoming more puzzled by the moment. He'd been unconscious when he'd arrived at the village and had no idea where the tunnel they were in led. Now Challenger was talking about finding some women in it? "What are you talking about?"

"No time to explain. Come with me."

"I'll wait here and keep an eye out for the others," said Roxton.

Challenger simply nodded and, lighting a fresh torch from the nearly expired first one, led Malone back along the passage.

*****

Marguerite was thinking fast. From her present location, she had a fair view of the blaze and the women scrambling to douse it. She took several moments to determine the pattern in what appeared at first to be chaos. The operation was surprisingly orderly, she discovered. There was a constant flow of women from the fire to the village well and back, never leaving one end of the line unmanned.

_So,_ she thought, _if the Amazons are all busy with the fire, where are their captives? Logically, they'd have to be in the prison._ Leaving behind the bucket, she made her way to the prison building. Veronica met her just outside its door.

"Did you find Ned?" were the first words out of the blonde's mouth.

"I'm fine thanks," replied Marguerite with a touch of irony. "And yes, I found him." She decided to keep the details of that discovery to herself; she could always use the information later, at a more profitable time. "He's safe in the tunnel with Roxton and Challenger."

"Good." Veronica almost allowed herself to relax at this news. She held up Malone's gun. "I found this inside in a weapons locker, but his ammo pouch wasn't there."

"I'll take it. It might be useful."

The blonde handed over the weapon; firearms weren't her preference anyway. "Now we just have to get Ardo and the rest of the men out of here. They're inside," she added at Marguerite's inquisitive look, giving a nod toward the prison building. "I say we go now while the Amazons are distracted by the fire. We won't get a better opportunity."

*****

"Challenger!" shouted Roxton from the mouth of the tunnel. "I hope you're ready back there!"

Near panic was clear in the hunter's voice. Challenger took a second to wonder at it, but he didn't pause in his preparations. Malone, on the other hand, went to find out what it was all about.

The sight was impressive, almost terrifying. Sprinting for their location were over half-a-dozen men, Veronica, Marguerite with her gun drawn, and ten angry, soot-covered, sword-wielding Amazons.

"Oh my god!" the reporter exclaimed. He hurried back to Challenger's position several yards back into the tunnel. "This better work," he informed the inventor. "We're about to have company."

"Has Veronica found Ardo?" asked Kai hopefully. The Zanga man was helping Challenger although he understood little beyond the older man's theory. Still, he tied the small cloth pouch carefully, making sure not to spill the black powder inside it, and handed it to Challenger.

"Yeah. And a whole bunch of other people, too," Malone answered.

A single rifle shot reverberated along the stone walls of the tunnel, sending dirt and gravel raining down on the trio. Challenger smiled. "Excellent," he said. The inventor turned to Kai. "Take this torch and go to the other end of the tunnel—the cave where you took shelter from the storm," he said, lighting an extra torch taken from Marguerite's belongings. He handed it to the Zanga. "Wait for us there."

Kai nodded and hurried away.

"Here they come!" came Roxton's shout.

Suddenly, the tunnel was overflowing with fleeing men. Challenger and Malone shouted directions, yelling at them to keep going. At the tunnel mouth, Roxton was laying down covering fire until the last possible moment. With Veronica and Marguerite inside, he aimed two more shots over the heads of the onrushing Amazons before running after Marguerite. 

Poised and waiting, Challenger watched as first the men, then the two women sprinted past him. Then Roxton appeared, rifle in one hand and the other hand holding his hat firmly on his head. The hunter reached Malone and Challenger and without slowing down shouted, "Now!" 

Malone took off after him down the tunnel as the inventor lit the fuse. Then Challenger ran too. An explosion followed by a deep rumbling assaulted his ears, and the ground shook under his feet. Challenger blinked back tears at the dust gritting his eyes, but kept the fleeing Malone in sight at the edge of his torch's light.

"Come on, Professor!" the reporter shouted, daring a quick glance over one shoulder.

They burst out into the jungle, a cloud of dirt, dust, and pulverized rock inches behind them.

Veronica caught Malone, pulling him to one side out of the way of the erupting debris. "Whoa! I've got you."

"George, are you all right?" Roxton asked the winded inventor.

Challenger nodded. He leaned on his rifle, catching his breath. 

"We need to get away from here," said Veronica, not releasing her hold on Malone. Now that she had him safe, she wasn't letting him go until they were back home in the treehouse.

"It's all right. The tunnel's quite inaccessible now," said Challenger confidently. "It will take them a long time to dig through should they even bother to try."

A look of horror spread across the blonde woman's face. "There were people in there!" she exclaimed. "Two of the Amazons. We found them—"

But Roxton cut her off. "We found them, too, right where you left them. We got them out and hid them just outside the entrance long before we collapsed the tunnel. Well done, by the way," he added with a smile at Challenger.

"If you found them," said Marguerite, "you found my things. Where are they?" She was as relieved as Veronica to hear their erstwhile attackers were safe from harm, but she didn't let it show. Instead, she hid behind her usual mask of self-interest.

"I have them," said Kai. He and Ardo stood to one side of the group. All the other men had fled, presumably back to their own villages. The Zanga man stepped forward and handed Marguerite her bag, belt, ammo pouch, and boots.

"Thank you," said the heiress with honest gratitude. "I don't want to wait to get to the treehouse to get back into my own clothes."

"I don't know," Roxton said with a sly smile. "I think the look suits you."

She shot him a sardonic glare, but inside she was pleased. "You would."

"Yes, I would," Roxton agreed, with a softer smile. "Actually, I'm just happy to see you in one piece. The last time I acted as your knight, you wound up rather worse for wear."

"That wasn't your fault, John," Marguerite reminded him quickly, realizing from his words that he must have received her message. She briefly chewed her lower lip, considering her next words. "Thank you for not coming after me today. I know that must have been difficult for you."

"It was," he admitted. "But I knew you wouldn't have asked if it hadn't been important – and that Malone and Veronica couldn't have been in better hands."

She looked down and smiled, deeply touched and somewhat flustered by his words. She knew he meant them, and that they were also an apology. She'd almost forgotten their quarrel in the danger of the last few hours, and she was content to let it go now. "What, the Amazons'?" she joked lightly, with a warm smile.

Roxton grinned at her, noting the soft gleam of affection in her grey eyes. "Yes – the feistiest Amazon of them all." He gestured grandly to the nearby underbrush. "Would my lady appreciate an escort to the changing room?"

Marguerite laughed. "Why of course – just so long as the brave knight promises not to peek."

Roxton raised his eyebrows. "Peeking would hardly be chivalrous of me," he replied, carefully not making any promises.

Marguerite noticed the omission – and silently let it pass.

Veronica looked to the Zangas. "Can you get home safely from here on your own?" she asked.

"Yes," Kai replied with a nod that caused his dark hair to fall over his eyes. He pushed it back with a graceful sweep of his hand. "We will be fine now. Thank you, Veronica." He turned to the whole group, making eye contact with each in turn. "Thank you, all."

*****

Malone sighed heavily as he sat down at the large table in the treehouse's common room. "It's so good to be home!" His head still ached and he was bone tired, but that was unimportant now. He was clean, clothed, fed, and safe from libidinous Amazons; that was all that mattered. A fresh evening breeze blew gently through the room, and he breathed it in contentedly.

Veronica set a cup of tea down in front of him. "It's cinnamon; it'll help your head," she explained. She took a seat nearby. "How's it doing, anyway?"

"It's been better, but it's been worse." He gave a self-deprecating smile; his propensity for getting hit on the head was becoming a running joke among them. He only wished it wasn't such a painful running joke.

"You'll be fine," said Challenger from where he was relaxing on the divan. "You just need a couple of days without any excitement."

"That sounds _wonderful_," Marguerite said, catching the last of the exchange as she and Roxton emerged from the kitchen. She wasn't entirely sure how they'd been stuck doing the dinner dishes, but for once she hadn't complained. Everyone had had a rough day—_Or two,_ she reminded herself—and she was frankly too tired to argue about little things like dishes. Besides which, it had given her some moments of relative privacy with Roxton. She concealed a secret smile at the memory before flopping unceremoniously into an armchair while Roxton joined the pair at the table.

"Challenger," Veronica began, glancing over at the inventor, "just how did you collapse that tunnel?" She knew she was chancing a lecture, but her curiosity needed to be satisfied.

"Elementary, my dear," the inventor replied. "It was simply a matter of finding the weakest link in the chain. Or in this case, the weakest point in the tunnel. Supply sufficient force to that point, and it will collapse. Using powder from the extra shells in Marguerite's ammunition pouch, I fashioned a crude sort of bomb. Placed in just the right spot, it was more than enough to do the job."

"And with the weakest point gone, whatever was relying on it collapsed as well," added Veronica, understanding dawning.

"And so on, and so on," the inventor said proudly.

"Thanks for telling me you used _my_ bullets," the heiress piped up sarcastically. "Good thing I didn't have any life-saving to do tonight."

"No, Marguerite," said Roxton, his tone a mix of appeasement and irony. "You've done your fair share of that for today."

"I'm glad someone recognizes that," came her jokingly haughty reply.

Challenger smiled to himself. _Good to see that all is well between them again._

They sat in companionable silence for a while, glad simply to be sitting still with no chores to do, no battles to fight, and no rescues to mount.

The gentle wind that had been wafting through the treehouse picked up suddenly, blowing out one of the hanging lanterns and sending another swinging violently. Everyone looked up in surprise. 

Roxton caught the swinging lantern carefully while Veronica moved to the balcony and looked out into the falling dusk. "Storm's coming in," she announced. She began lowing the storm shades. The three men moved to help her. Marguerite picked up a nearby book and opened it to the first page.

"Don't help or anything, Marguerite," muttered Ned as he lowered and secured a shade. He hadn't meant his voice to travel as far as it did, but gusting wind carried his words to the lounging heiress.

"What was that?" demanded Marguerite of the reporter.

"Nothing," he said. He regretted his words immediately. He hadn't wanted to start a fight; he was just a bit grumpy from weariness and his lingering headache. "Just talking to myself."

Marguerite knew he was lying, but she wasn't inclined to pursue the matter. Instead, she opted for a little retribution. "Watch that lamp, Malone," she said as the reporter nearly bumped into a lantern. "We wouldn't want a repeat of what happened in the Amazon village."

Veronica looked at her quizzically. "Why? What happened?"

"Who do you think started that fire? And I can assure you it wasn't intentional. Honestly, Malone," the heiress continued breezily, "if anyone ever had any doubts about you being a natural blond, I think I can lay them to rest."

Malone's eyes widened. "Marguerite, you didn't—"

"Didn't what?" she asked with false innocence. "I was referring to your natural air-headedness in knocking over a lit candle in a tinder-box of a building. What did you _think_ I meant?" Her barely suppressed smirk was evidence she knew exactly what the reporter had thought—indeed, that she'd planned it that way.

Rain began pattering gently on the roof and shades.

"Nothing," said Ned, blushing furiously. "Nothing at all."

*****END*****


End file.
